Panties and Sundaes
by Lila Paige Rose
Summary: Okay, so suddenly there was a creepy guy holding underwear that says "I love bananas," and leering at me, stripping me with his eyes. Not cool. AU, a bit OOC Sasusaku.


I need a hot steaming cup of café mocha.

I am currently rotting away at the pantybar at my workplace, complete with a chirpy greeting voice advertising the 5 for $25 panties we have (never mind that the sign for it is as tall as me and _right beside me) _and a 24-karat smile. (I always thought orthodontists were the 21st century versions of the guillotine executioners back in the days. I mean, not only did they invent torture devices, they made it _legal._ And desirable. Damn, orthodontists are totally going for world domination.

I told daddy I was going to lobby lethal injection for dentists and orthodontists, but he laughed at me like my idea was stupid. Obviously, he hasn't visited them much.)

That entire thought took 1.23 seconds, and I'm _still_ rotting.

Suddenly, there was a hand at my edge of my vision. A brown, calloused-looking hand.

More importantly, a hand that is TWITCHING THE THONGS I JUST FOLDED.

_He did not just go there._

I whip around, smile and chirpy voice in place (don't you just hate it when you're at work and you want to throw every bloody curse you know, but instinct kicks in and you smile and look as if you totally love seeing them? Makes me think I'm mental, sometimes.

Weird, I know.)

"Hi! Welcome to Pink! Doing okay?"

He smiles in what he seemed to think was a very rakish smile, his silver tooth filling glinting in the overhead lights.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

I blink. Um, yeah, I kind of work here.

Trying not to look turned off, I stretch my lips into a smile and bared my fangs. I'm pretty sure my inner Edward came out.

Taking my fangs as encouragement (I need to talk to my orthodontists. Or my cousin with the costume store. I _demand_ longer canines.) The guy rustle closer to me and say, "So is it cheaper if I buy five panties?" while holding up a bikini-cut underwear that says 'I love bananas'.

(I swear, the designers of Pink are perverted geniuses. _Seriously. _It's not easy to channel that much kink in a hundred underwears.)

I get the distinct impression that this guy is trying to chat me up. (While talking about panties. In a bright pink store with neon lights and every conceivable color of the rainbow on display.

Have I mentioned he's a dude?)

I take a breath and beam again. I think the last time I smiled like this was two seconds before I puked my guts out on my first hang-over. "Yep! A single panty costs $7.50, so five is definitely cheaper! You should totally buy five panties!" (or a calculator, and maybe glasses. I mean, _hello_, sign right beside me.)

He looks a bit confused and glances at the sign. "Oh, yeah, five IS cheaper!"

Yep, definitely calculator and glasses. Maybe even a telescope.

He stares at the panty for a second and then tossed it somewhere behind him.

My eyes blaze. _He. Did. Not._ Forget Edward, I want Godzilla and Optimus Prime. I'm going to have Godzilla Prime eat him and poo him and sell him as fertilizer in ebay.

"You know, I've seen you at the train station. Mcknight train, right? Then you take the bus?"

This would be a very good time to channel my previously hidden telepathic powers and call for a manager, because I am Very Creeped Out.

I wait. The guy keeps leering.

… No luck.

Yeah, so this guy continued to smile at me, hold up the underwear, and stare somewhere below my chin. Unfortunately, I can't let my instinct kick in, because then I would be running away screaming and dialling 911.

Or grabbing the neon sign and bashing his head in. I have this vague impression that that's illegal.

Therefore, I want a sundae. (Chocolate sundaes make me life.)

Suddenly, someone taps my shoulder. I was going to do my smile-brightly-and-talk-chirpy routine, but I think my eyes came out as kind of help-me-im-going-to-be-raped-and-mauled-and-i-want-two-kids-and-a-dog-and-oh-yeah-a-husband way, because the guy looks at me, glances at the guy stripping me with his eyes and seemed to have come to some conclusion. The guy looks at me again and says, "What time do you get off work, Anne?"

At that millisecond, three bolts of lightning hit me.

1. I am going to run to the city register right after work and rename myself Anne. This guy makes the most generic name in the world sound sexy and sexotic.

(Oops, exotic.)

2. This dude is hot. As in meteor-from-outer-space hot. As in as hot as Hugh-Jackman-and-Johnny Depp-in-one hot. I may even go over the deep end and say that this guy is hotter than Donald Duck.

Holy shit, that's something else.

_3. _I still want a sundae.

I stare at the new guy. He looks concerned at my expression, his black brows coming together in the middle and forming this cute little frown.

I snap into attention. "Yargh," I reply reasonably.

He blinks and taps my forehead. "Anne?"

I _really _have to call my dad and ask where that register is.

I swallow and try to appear as if I'm a normal (as normal as a person with natural pink hair can be) 20 year old girl. "Muh."

The cute guy straightens from how he was looking down at me.

Height issues here, man, thanks.

He looks as if he came to some sort of decision and nods. "I'll wait."

At this point in time, my brain manages to remember that the cute guy is pretending for my sake to save me from the freaky-ass guy, so I look in the direction creepy-crawly was last seen and discovers he's gone.

I want to do a happy dance.

Instead, I whip my head around towards the cute guy and say, "Hi, welcome to Pink! How may I help you?"

…Sometimes I hate knee-jerk reactions.

The cute guy, with his black spiky hair and blue shirt, raises one eyebrow at me. Correct me if I'm wrong, but he looks as if I amused him.

Yeah, I'm such a riot. I totally missed my calling when I broke my friendship with that clown on my 7th birthday because he told me I was too cute to be a clown.

Dude, not cool.

Cute guy smirks at me and answers, "Nothing really. It was a dare for me to come in."

I think I'm hurt. Pink may be a girly store, and the men standing outside the store yelling at their mothers and girlfriends to hurry up are pretty normal, but we are not a dare store. It made me feel like we're one of those 'adult' store, where the windows are covered in red so no one can look in.

A 13-year-old girl just passes by. Oh, _ick._ Forget I said that.

Guy is still staring at me. (Oh yeah, I'm _that_ cute.)

However, this is the guy that just saved me from potential humiliation and definite termination ( I was seriously considering the head bashing plan), so I try to gather my skittering thoughts and say something that makes sense. (I just realized I haven't, yet.)

"Our panties are 5 for $25!" Oh, wait, I need something that makes sense. "All the top ones are medium; the rest are in the drawers below!" 24-karat smile.

…I don't think he's interested in the panties.

I NEED SOMETHING THAT MAKES ME LOOK LIKE MY BRAIN FUNCTIONS, DAMMIT!

I open my mouth. (You can tell from there how bad an idea that was.) "You're cute."

In my defence, at least it has sense.

Cute guy is now looking at me as if my head just ran off on four legs and Aragog is climbing out of my neck stump.

God, I probably seem really creepy now, much like that guy from earlier. He's probably regretting saving me. I'm tempted to cut myself with a butter knife.

Oh, right. I don't work in a restaurant. Then I'll… I'll… make a panty-noose and hang myself off our neon lights!

I can just imagine my cause of death. "Asphyxiation from panties."

Or the tablet at my gravesite. "Good friend, Good daughter, Good employee – dedication to panties until the end."

I wonder how the priest will read that. Can they say the word panties?

Suffice to say, I am very unimpressed with myself.

While I am trying to hide my face unobtrusively (meaning I am covering my face with my hands and trying to discreetly bang my forehead on the pantybar), I heard a snicker beside me.

I whip my head and narrowly miss clipping him on the cheek.

He was grinning at me and _man_, was that the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I don't think he does it often enough though, it looks a bit awkward.

But beautiful. Mind-blowingly, Megan-Fox-ingly gorgeous.

He finally stops alternating a grin and a cough and asks me, "What _is_ your name, Anne?"

I gulp. "Sakura."

"Sakura," he intones, still grinning slightly, "do you want to grab something after your shift ends?"

I nod, strongly resembling a bobble-head a kid has pounded on.

"Two o'clock," I stutter, trying to etch into my memory his smiling face and forgetting that it my manager is bearing down on me like a ship in the ocean.

Hormones, first. Panty later.

Cute guy taps my head with his finger. "I'm Sasuke; I'll see you at two. Maybe we can go grab a sundae or something."

I am totally elevating this guy to Achilles demi-god level. He forgot to mention what sundae flavour, or he would be at the highest level.

However, at this point I decide that nodding is probably the best thing I can do to resemble a sane human being. Therefore, I nod.

He walks away but just before reaching the store entrance, he glances back at me a bit and grins a little. (I'm _this _close to fainting. Or wetting my pants. I can only hope not to embarrass myself further.)

_Darn_. Now I really want that sundae.

* * *

><p>I'm obviously craving McDonalds.<p>

Most pointless drabble ever, made while I was procrastinating between two term papers and one exam. Fun times, final university week. Not beta-ed, because my beta is in a different country and the opposite timezone from me. Sorry for any mistakes, but I'm a bit burned out. Based on real events, except for the Sasuke part. Hoo, I wish. What I did in real life was run, in the form of "I need the ladies' room (insert name of co-worker). Please watch the bar!"

I dedicate this chapter to my CORE 207 journal. I hope I finish you soon, coz you're due in like 3 hours. No pressure.

I promise to upload "Abs-man" once I remember what bet I was planning was, and Lost is a bit lost (pardon the pun) at the moment. I'll try to find it (or maybe re-write the entire thing, I wrote it when I was 12 and obsessed with clothes, so I went on and on on what they were wearing. I think the clothing even resembled Maya from Ultra Maniac, because I was obsessing on that at the time.

So, please read and review, and since it's totally plotless, please be nice. :D


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